


Angel's Best Friend

by Gabe-Trash (WardenQueen666)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dog - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Re-write, Sabriel - Freeform, season 5, there is a dog and he is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6816778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenQueen666/pseuds/Gabe-Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an Archangel dies, someone has to care for what they leave behind. Or, in this case, who. As the apocalypse drew near, and the Winchesters were without hope, Gabriel leaves them with their best lead, and a new addition to the team - Max, the Jack Russell Terrier.<br/>However, the pup holds a secret. As Sam dreams, something chases out the darkness that clouds his mind. It is golden and safe. Could it be him? Can he help? How will their relationship grow? We shall have to see.<br/>“Time to wake up, Kiddo.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Development

“Can’t say I’m betting on you boys, but, uh, hey! I’ve been wrong before. Now, um, Sam, look after my dog. And Dean, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother; not anymore. So, this is me standing up… and this is me, lying down.”

“Oh, uh, oh man!” Sam turned away from the screen and covered his eyes, as Dean shut the laptop.

“Horsemen huh?” Dean voiced, unenthusiastically, “Well we got War’s and Famine’s; now we just need… wait wait wait. Did he just tell you to… take care of his dog?” He looked accusingly at his younger brother, demanding an explanation. 

“Uh, yeah – I think he did.”

“What dog?”

The next moment, the boys had to shield their eyes from an intense light, bursting with electrical energy. Under Sam’s arm hung a small, plump, Jack Russell Terrier. 

“…This dog…”

“Oh, nu-uh, no. We are not trekking around the country, looking for Pestilence and Death, the  _ horsemen _ , with this oversized rat wrecking the back seat. No way.”

“Dean.” Sam glared at his brother, disappointment evident in his gaze.

“No Sammy; it’s not happening.”

"Dean. Gabriel just saved our lives and, if you haven't noticed, died doing so. This was his last wish, and I intend to fulfil it. We are keeping the dog."

The elder Winchester’s stubborn streak was dampened by looking at his brother, who was doing his best impression of an injured kitten.

"Ug - fine. But, if it pees anywhere near Baby, it's out. Does it even have a name?"

Sam's spirits seemed to lift almost instantaneously. For a man in his late 20's, he had the inhibitions of a child in the presence of God’s furry little creatures.

“Um, yeah..." He lifted the dog closer to his face and checked the tag, "Max."

"Well Dr Doolittle, let's get 'Max' back to Bobby's, so we can discuss the plan of attack."

Sam nodded, eyes glinting with new found hope, and loss. The sudden lick to his palm, however,  gave him some kind of reassurance – no matter how small. “Yeah, you’ve lost someone too, haven’t you boy?” Max whined in response. Sam smiled, retrieved his laptop and entered the passenger side of the Impala, soon followed by Dean. 

“Hey, keep the pooch off of the leather. K?” 

For that, Dean received a bitch face. 

  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  


“Did you really have to test him now? Holy water and dog doesn’t create the most pleasant smell.” 

Dean had been adamant about testing Max in every way possible, before they saw Bobby. 

“You know the rules Sammy, anything weird and magical gets tested.”

“He’s a dog, Dean.”

“Who just so happened to appear in a flash of bright light – magically; you’re welcome.” Dean raised an eyebrow, challenging Sam to go against him. “Now are you going to cut Odie here, or am I?”

Sam took the silver knife with a grim expression, and fell to one knee. “I’m sorry boy – but, apparently, rules are rules and it has to be done…” 

Max sat patiently as Sam sliced a small incision at his upper thigh; he didn’t even whimper, just tilted his head in recognition.

Dean looked at them with a perplexed expression. 

“Uh – either that’s a  _ really  _ good dog, or he is  _ way _ too used to this kind of thing.”

“Well, he was Gabriel’s; I wouldn’t be surprised if the little guy had seen some action.” Sam pet Max’s head; the Jack nuzzled against his palm. “So, he’s not a demon, a shifter, Skinwalker or anything else we hunt. Can we go inside now?”

Dean grunted begrudgingly, and made for the door.

  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  


“So, you get the info on how to gank God’s favourite son, and then get landed with Scrappy here?” Bobby looked as suspicious as one would expect. “Call me a cynic – “

“Oh, the thought never crossed our minds.”

“Stow it, Princess.” Bobby snapped, rolling his eyes, “But, this doesn’t sound so cut and dry. What’s the catch?”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, you know those horse riding douchebags we ganked a while back? Turns out we need to finish the job and collect the friendship rings.”

“The Horsemen?! You’ve gotta be joking?”

Sam spoke up from where he was sitting, “Well, we’ve already got two; what’s two more?”

“If you didn’t realise, idgit, the other two belong to the best thing to illness since the plague, and  _ Death  _ himself! So, excuse me if I’m not exactly raring to go.”

“If it’s a choice between jockeys and the God squad, I’m placing my bets now.” Dean popped the cap off his beer and took a long drink, eyeing up Sam’s lap as he did so. “What’s with you and the mutt anyway? Doesn’t the whole thing seem the least bit shady to you? I mean – it’s  _ Gabriel’s  _ dog, man.”

Sam momentarily halted in stroking the lump of fur on his thighs to shrug in response. “Not really… it kinda feels calming, in a way. I don’t know…” He looked down at Max and smiled when golden orbs greeted him. “There’s just something about this dog.”

“Yeah, something fishy – why would Gabriel, ex trickster, give us his  _ dog _ of all things? Why not something useful? Like, I don’t know, a Devil killing gun that actually works?”

“Maybe he  _ actually  _ wanted us to look after him? I mean Max is very well cared for – if not too well…” Sam poked him in his stomach, earning an insulted look, which provoked a low chuckle. “Gabriel was a one-man act; even angels must get lonely at times. He’s trusting us to save the world; why not his dog?”

He turned his doe-eyes up at his brother, Max joining him. Dean regarded the pair with a raised eyebrow. 

“You just want to keep the dog.”

Sam grinned, “Yes, but it’s also something to consider.”


	2. A First of Many

“Tell me again, why did we have to bring him?”

Dean pulled into the night’s motel and gestured to Max, happily panting in the back seat. 

“Because, Bobby doesn’t need the distraction. Plus, he is  _ our  _ responsibility.”

“No, he’s  _ your _ responsibility. You were the one Porn-Stache trusted to look after him, and you’re obviously doing an  _ amazing _ job since taking him on a disease infested hunt is  _ really _ gonna keep the little guy safe.”

Dean switched off the engine and turned around to glare at the backseat, although there was no heat behind it. “Did you keep your paws off the leather?”

Max tilted his head and whined.

“Good, you keep your end of the bargain and you’ll be fine.”

When he turned back, Sam was smiling uncontrollably. 

“What?”

“You’re starting to like him, aren’t you?”

Dean put his hand on his chest in mock offence. “Why Sammy, how could you accuse me of such a thing?”

“Just admit it, Dean – he’s growing on you.”

The older Winchester scoffed, but held a fond expression. “Yeah… well, he ain’t half bad for a mutt. Now, stop stretching that face of yours or everyone will know how you got those scars.” Dean opened his door and made a beeline for the trunk. 

Sam also exited the car and opened the back so that he could attach Max’s lead. However, Max jumped out first. 

Sam gasped, chest tight as he spun around to call the dog’s name and scan the area. But, of course, Max was sitting at his feet, cocking his head to the side. 

He leant back against the car door, arms straight and palms touching the cold metal, gaining his breath back. 

“Guessing you don’t need a lead, then?”

If Sam didn’t know any better, he would have said the dog was smirking.

  
  


~*~*~*~

  
  


Nightmares haunted Sam. The overflowing guilt; the bursting regret and the deep darkness in the depths of his mind sought to torture him even as he slept.

Death on his hands. Cracks in his heart. Pollution in his blood. Ebony black clouded his vision. 

All this, he had become used to of late. 

Although, there was something new – something resonating in the dark – something golden and full of life. 

It was full of  _ hope _ . 

It was only small, like an insignificant star in the mass of night, but it was enough. It made Sam feel safe; like he was not alone. 

The light began to expand. It cleared black from his sight, replacing the feelings of dread with warmth and compassion. 

Sam felt content. He felt at peace. 

The light did not frighten him. It was familiarity. It was trust. It was companionship. 

He needn’t know more, but would be willing.  

“Time to wake up, Kiddo.”

Sam’s eyes shot open as he sat up at speed. The light of day pierced through him. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change. The clock at the bedside read 5:36am. He had slept the whole night with no interruptions. One look to Dean’s bed told him that his brother hadn’t been so fortunate. 

A snuffle to his left caught his attention. Sam smiled softly. It was nice to wake up to a loving face. 

Sam thought back to his dream. He was unusually aware of everything that transpired. The voice that woke him, it was affectionate, kind and soft with a tinge of fond amusement. 

It made him feel protected. 

Sam racked his brain for an owner, but couldn’t form a name. 


	3. Manipulated Once

 

“Okay, yeah. Fine. Yeah, I’ll keep you posted Bobby. Cya.” Sam hung up, chucking the phone onto the nightstand. He eyed the bed in the centre of the room, headboard towards the wall, and fell onto it, making a note to patently ignore any gross substances that could be lingering in its sheets. 

_ ‘Well, today is going just fucking swell.’ _

It started like a normal hunt -  interview those involved, try to collect information, make a few insensitive jokes and try to bluff their way out of an embarrassing situation. Then, Crowley turned up, dragged them to an abandoned shack and took Dean who knows where, to find out where Pestilence was holding up. 

_ ‘So you want to cram the devil back in the box? Cunning scheme. I want in.’ _

 

Sam ran a hand down his face and leant down to grab the bottle of hunter’s helper at the side of the bed. He had wanted to stab that smug son of a bitch the moment he appeared. In fact, he had tried, stabbing the upholstery in the process.    
  
_ ‘I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon?’ _ __   
  


Crowley’s face had been calm; almost blank as he spoke. However, an obvious hint self-righteousness emanated from his eyes; a sadistic smirk rested on his lips. Sam wanted to smack it off. Yet, Dean was all too willing to go with him. 

_ ‘What can I say? I believe the guy..’ _

Yeah, Sam got it. It was their best and only lead. If he was in Dean’s position, he probably would have gone along too. At least he had looked conflicted about the situation. Sam downed the last of the bottle, dropping it on the floor. He watched it roll towards the door, only for it to be stopped by an obstacle in it’s path. Sam thought it ironic. There was a way for him to help, yet the only thing stopping him was his family's opinions. 

‘ _ How are you gonna control the devil when you can't control yourself?’ _

 

Luckily, there were two bottles by the bed originally, meaning that Sam didn’t have to move in order to drink away his conflictions. He heard a quiet scuffle before a light weight found itself on his stomach, golden eyes peering into his own. Sam felt some of his anger ebbing away, eased by the soft look on Max’s face.

 

“Sorry buddy; it’s been a rough day.”

 

Max, seemingly understanding Sam was upset, nuzzled against his hand, aiming to get his head beneath it. Sam hummed in amusement, scratching Max behind the ears in thanks.

The moment was over all too soon, when the sound of a car door closing was heard from outside. Sam sighed, gathering Max in his arms and standing, glancing out the window. He hesitated, before making his way out, towards the source of the noise. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by a pissed off crossroads demon, who was staring absently ahead. 

 

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asked, voice low. He wasn’t about to take any nonsense that the arrogant swine could throw his way.

 

Crowley rolled his eyes, deeming to pay the younger Winchester some underserved attention. “Now...For the record, I'm against this. Negotiating a high-level defection... It's very delicate business.” Sam scoffed, aiming to barge past him, but failing. Crowley stood in his path, hand up in front of his chest. If looks could kill, Crowley would be removed from existence, permanently. 

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Crowley’s stare was icey; Max growled, baring his teeth. He almost looked intimidating, still being cradled in Sam’s arms. Crowley regarded the small animal with a perplexed expression, before fixing Sam with another cold look. 

“I begged Dean not to come back. We should be miles away...from you  _ and _ your bloody mutt.”

Max snarled; Sam’s jaw twitched. Both were unamused by the demon’s tact, and urged him to carry on with their silence.

“He replied with a colourful rejoinder about my ‘corn chute.’”

Sam smirked, disdainfully. Crowley squinted, lips forming a thin line, appearing to have come to terms with something. “So, go ahead. Go; ruin our last, best, hope. It's only the end of the world.”

 

Sam had passed him before he finished speaking, proceeding into the next room. He stilled, eyeing the scene before him; greeted by, not only his brother, but a beaten, suited person, who was tied to a chair. The mysterious figure’s identity was unknown to Sam, however, as their face was hidden by a sigil covered sack. 

 

His older brother acknowledged him and slowly walked in his direction. “Sam.” Dean’s tone was stern; serious. His face was cold; his eyes determined.

 

Sam was confused.

  
“What’s going on, Dean?”

 

“I need you to stay on mission, okay?” Dean kept his eyes on Sam’s own; gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “Focused.”

 

Sam was almost amused, a confused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don't understand. What's all this about?”

 

Dean’s gaze didn’t waver; he still held an intent expression.Sam would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a small bit intimidated. “I'm doing this 'cause I trust you.”

 

Sam’s eyes fell on the figure in the chair for a second, before looking back at Dean with a questioning brow. “Trust me to what?” 

 

His brother was about to reply, probably to tell Sam exactly what he meant, however he didn’t have the chance before he was interrupted. 

 

“Sam?” The man, Sam deducted from the sound of his voice, called; clearing his throat. “Sam, is that you?”

 

Dean raised his eyebrows in signal - a signal to  _ keep calm.  _ That in itself made Sam nervous. He visibly gulped, watching the elder of the two move towards the man in the chair. Dean grasped the bag, pulling it off of the man’s head in one swift motion. And, that is when Sam’s heart momentarily stopped.

 

“Brady?”

 

He watched with wide eyes as Brady chuckled darkly under his breath, lifting his head to meet Sam’s eyes. “Brady hasn't been Brady in years.” Sam couldn’t stop staring, panic flashing over his features. “Not since, oooh...middle of our sophomore year?” 

 

“What?”

 

“That’s right.” Although his voice indicated humor, Brady resonated malice. Sam looked to Dean for a split second, trying to make sense of the situation, before returning his gaze to the demon whom he thought was his friend. “You had a devil on your shoulder, even back then.” Evidently, Sam was wrong. 

His mind was spinning, trying to comprehend the new information. Sam looked around, eyes seemingly following his flow of thought. Brady looked on condescendingly as he spoke, “Alright, now, let it aaaall sink in.” 

 

Sam’s eyes finally fixed into position, glaring at his once best friend, pure fury burned in his gaze. He slowly placed Max down on the floor, so not to hurt him; never looking away from the object of his anger. 

“You son of a bitch….” He stood up again, and began stalking forward. “You son of a bitch! You introduced me to Jess!” Sam tried to run at Brady, ready to beat him into a demonic pulp, but Dean stopped him, holding him back and edging him towards the door. Brady’s words were but echoes that no longer registered as words in Sam’s mind - it was clouded with rage. All he could make out was the sarcastic tones that made the cloud even thicker, filling and ready to burst into an almighty storm. 

 

Dean threw his brother into the other room, ready to stop him if he made another attempt to get at their hostage. Which, of course, he did. “Hey! That’s enough!”

 

“Get out of my way Dean.”

 

“No.” Dean held up a hand in protest, determined not to let Sam mess this up any more than he already  had.

 

Sam went to respond again, but stilled when he felt two small paws scratching at his pant leg. He looked down, into the golden pools staring back at him, and the storm began to dissipate. 

Dean saw the tenseness start to bleed out of him, and thought this was his opening to pacify the situation. 

“There is only one way to win, and it ain't by killing that thing in there.”

Sam’s hands balled into fists, side eyeing Crowley as he waltzed past and into the room where they were holding Brady. 

Dean approached Sam carefully, “Listen to me... We need pestilence to get at the devil, and we need Brady to get to pestilence.” 

 

“Why?” Sam asked, his face taut with vexation. “Because Crowley said so? Because we trust him now?” His hands were moving as he spoke, almost throwing his emotions into the air. “Like I trusted Ruby? Or like I trusted Brady back at school?”

 

“We don’t  _ trust _ him, Sam. We need him. We don’t have a choice, so I suggest you either suck it up, or sit this one out.”

 

Sam bit his lip, resigning to not say another word. He bent down to pick Max up again, and walked towards the staircase. He’d have to get Brady alone somehow. There were things he had to, no,  _ needed _ to know. And, he was going to find out, one way or another. 


	4. Never Again

The resonating sound of a flush filled the cabin bathroom, as Dean fixed his belt into place. The whole day had set him on edge. Not only had Crowley lied to him about what Dean was getting himself into, but the demon who he had referred to as the ‘ _Horseman’s stable boy_ ’ happened to be Sam’s ex-best friend.

 

Dean stepped away from the toilet and towards a cracked sink with one broken faucet, and a paint splattered mirror. Well, he hoped it was paint at least. He stared at his reflection, thinking back on the words Crowley had told him before disappearing.

 

 _‘You going somewhere,’_ Dean had asked, looking up at him with accusing curiosity. Crowley didn’t seem phased, replying with _‘Well, he won’t budge, So now I go stick my neck out.’_ The hunter had leant forward at that moment, a serious glint in his eye. _‘What are you gonna do?’_ Crowley seemed to be forcing himself to not roll his eyes, the smug nature of his personality radiating from his taut lips. ‘ _Exactly the kind of desperate swashbuckle I've been trying to avoid.’_ Dean’s expression fell at that moment, not liking the sound of where the conversation was going. _‘Now I go kick open a hive of demons.’_ Dean wasn’t worried about Crowley,he was worried about the repercussions his actions might bring to them all. Just before Crowley left, he turned back to Dean, glaring. _‘This whole bloody ring business better work.’_

 

Dean laughed bitterly in remembrance, if only he knew for sure what they were doing would work. Everything they had accomplished up till now; everything they had planned was based on the tidbit of information Gabriel had provided them with in his death. If this turned out to be just another one of his tricks, then Dean would bring him back from the grave just to kill him again. He sighed, knowing that Gabriel would never actually do that. The archangel may have been a dick, but he did die trying to save them; trying to save the world. Still, the method to put the devil back in the box was but a theory; they had no proof that it would even work. Dean gripped the basin, then pulled his hand away when he felt something sticky on the rim. He shook his head and washed his hands, splashing his face with water in the process. Dean glanced in the mirror, eyes widening when he heard the door lock behind him. He ran to the door, pounding the wood with his knuckles. This was not going to end well.

“Sam?” Dean called, desperation lacing his voice, “Come on, Sam! Don't do this!” He rammed against the door with vigor, attempting the force it open, but it was all for naught. “Sam, come on!”

 

Sam blocked out his brother pleas, taking a breath before stepping into the next room, Ruby’s knife in hand. He walked slowly, eyes fixed on the chair at it’s centre.

 

“Weeell, here we go.” Brady drawled, smiling sardonically. “We doing last words or no?”

 

Sam stalked around the right side of the chair, to face the man who had helped manipulate his life for years. “Sophomore year, huh?”

 

Brady sighed mockingly, clearing his throat before speaking. “Brady, here, he was a good kid,” He tilted his head to one side, looking up at his captive. “Straight arrow. I mean, your best friend really.” A mischievous grin lit up his face, “Perfect point of access.”

 

Sam looked down at Brady, teeth grit and eyes cold. “Thanksgiving.”

 

“Yes, Sir!” Brady seemed so pleased with himself, unable to keep that sickening grin off of his features. “Remember when I came back from break all messed up,” Sam could hear the amusement begin to bubble in Brady’s throat, “Dropped out of pre-med, the drugs, the bitches? That was the new Brady. That was me.”

Chestnut brown locks fell before a hostile expression, as Sam brought his chin to his chest, biting his lip through anger. Most of Brady’s words no longer registered, but Sam could still hear the sarcastic humour in his tone. However, he tuned in again when the tone changed, filling with more malice. “...So I hooked you up with a pure, sweet, innocent piece of tail.”

Sam’s hand flexed around the hilt of the blade, an abysmal darkness filling his mind; his eyes seeing red. His heart rapidly increased in rate.

“And then I toasted her on the ceiling.”

Sam was gone. All rational thought had descended into an infernal rage. His breathing turned erratic and heavy. He watched Brady’s mouth move, forming words that would only seek antagonise Sam further. Part of Sam wanted to run the knife through the demon’s chest; kill him quickly. While the other urged him to torture the disgusting, pitiful excuse of a man; watch him suffer a slow and painful death. Although, there was something small in the back of his mind; something trying to will him away from causing the death of the one who killed someone he held dear.

His mind was made up, when his gaze fell on Brady’s parted lips, acknowledging the laugh that passed them. It made Sam sick with anger.

He charged at him, pushing the chair backwards and pinning the knife to Brady’s throat. Sam’s thoughts were racing. His eyes followed his own movements, watching his hand press the blade deep enough to draw blood. He could feel the vibrations of Brady’s taunting against his wrist.

He was going to kill Brady - he was. Sam was going to kill him there and then.

Until he heard a voice.

_“Stop.”_

Sam did. His hand stilled and he was staring not _at_ Brady, but through him. His mind losing it’s malicious intent and filling with curiosity. He knew that voice.

_“Don’t do it Kiddo. I promise you’ll regret it later.”_

Sam’s fury began to dissipate; his glare wavered.

_“Please.”_

Sam couldn’t proceed; he couldn’t kill Brady. Dean would call him an idiot, listening to a voice in his head. Although, Dean was probably mad at him already. Sam couldn’t understand why, but he trusted the words that he heard.

Taking a step back, he looked down at Brady; heard the manic laughter and saw the light in his eyes die.

Brady had wanted to die.

Sam smirked, a devilish glint in his eye, as he walked past the hysterical demon and down the corridor, stopping suddenly when he saw Max in his path. The spotted jack almost looked proud of him. Sam chuckled, taking Max into his arms. “Come on boy, time to face the music.”

  


~*~*~*~

  


Erratic banging indicated that Dean was, in fact, worse than mad. He was furious.

“COME ON!” His  shout was followed by another course of knuckles against wood.

“Hey, hey, hey! All right! Wait! I'm gonna open it.” The sound of wood sliding against floorboards had Dean cursing his little brother for blocking his exit with, not only locking the door but shoving a chair against it. He ego was, however, boosted slightly considering the fact that Sam thought he needed the extra precaution.

The door finally swung open, to show a, very skittish, giant of a man, holding a small dog in his arms. Dean barged past him, pursing his lips before speaking in a rough; demanding voice. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing.” Sam replied, sighing at his brother’s tone

 

“My ass,” Dean spoke, still pacing towards where Brady was being held.

 

“Dean, I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah? And what about Brady?” The older of the two marched to his destination, hearing Sam groan in exasperation as he turned the corner, seeing said demon still tied to the chair, with only a few extra wounds.

 

Sam stood behind Dean, staring at him with a prominently raised eyebrow. “Like you said, we need him.”

 

“God. The day I've had.” The sudden addition of a new voice caused the Winchesters to turn around with their hackles raised, to see an even more irritating demon in their midsts. This one they _weren’t_ allowed to tie up. Crowley acknowledged them with a look, while casually strolling past, in order to address Brady.  “Good news,” He announced, with unadulterated superiority.  “You're going to live forever.”

The intense anger in Brady’s eyes was enough to assure Sam that things were finally in their favour. The brothers sat back and watched as Crowley explained how he had taken down a nest of demons, letting only one live so that they could report back. It was now common knowledge that Brady had _‘defected’_ and was now in league with Crowley. Oh, and they were also lovers. Sam tried his best to stifle his laughter. He may loathe the demonic excuse for an ally, but Crowley had style.

Just before Brady finally caved in, a howl echoed in the distance, followed by another that seemed slightly closer.

Dean’s eyes welled up, going wide with fear. “Was that a hellhound?”

Crowley was stunted, rolling the situation over in his mind. “I’d say yeah.”

Dean tried to compose himself, memories of his death forcing their way into his conscious. “Why was that a hellhound?”

Sam’s anxiety was reaching all new levels of high. Seeing his brother in a state of pure fright was enough to set all his nerves on edge. Turns out, the demons Crowley had supposedly taken down, had tracked him to their location.

It was tense for a long while. Crowley had ditched them and Brady refused to shut up about getting him out of the situation. The brothers were trying their best to protect themselves, aiming to salt the windows and doors - all entrances and exits. But, their plan was foiled when a hellhound ambushed Dean in the kitchen. He was still armed with shotguns and holy water, but it wouldn’t be enough. Sam could see that Dean was panicking; he had even closed his eyes for a few seconds, seemingly sending up a prayer. Sam then took back that thought - Dean was in no _way_ religious.

Not long after the hound had gotten past their limited form of protection, Crowley had decided to turn up again, claiming that he was now currently invested. Sam and Dean were suspicious until he commanded a hellhound to “stay.”

“You can control them?” Dean asked accusingly, eyeing Crowley and any other space that a hound could be inhabiting.

Crowley smiled, pointing behind Dean. “Not that one.” He then raised his arm and patted an invisible shape beside him. “I brought my own. Mine’s bigger.” Looking towards his hound, Crowley’s smile widened. “Sic ‘em boy!”

Blood splattered the floor as teeth ripped into flesh. It painted the walls crimson and filled the air with whines of pain. Sam clutched Max to his chest, heart filling with the need to protect him at all costs, even before himself.

Dean quickly untied Brady and broke the devil’s trap, ushering him out the door, followed by both his brother and their unlikely saviour.

Before they got in the car, Crowley smirked, catching Dean’s eye.

“I’ll wager 1000 that my pup wins.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“You’ve screwed me. For eternity!”

Brady had just given Pestilence’s location to Crowley, ensuring him that it was kosher. Crowley assured Dean that Brady had nothing left to lose, and therefore had no reason to lie.

He had turned back to face the disheveled, broken man in the alley, granting him a response. “Nah. Won't last that long. Trust me.” Walking away, he looked Sam up and down, raising an eyebrow at the pup in his arms, before reaching Dean at the other end of the alley, who let him pass before closing a salt line.

“Where are you going?” Brady called, desperation evident in his voice.

“I’m going to do you a favour,” Crowley replied, then disappeared into thin air. Dean faced his brother, giving him a knowing look, before moving to take Max from his arms.

“What is this?” Brady asked, chuckling nervously when Dean backed away from Sam, giving him space.

Dean stared past Sam, straight into Brady’s eyes. This was not his fight, it was Sam’s. “All those angels, all those demons, all those sons of bitches... They just don't get it, do they Sammy?”

Brady’s gaze flicked from brother to brother, nerves breaking through the calm exterior of his vessel.

“No, they don't, Dean.” Sam’s own eyes were fixed on the object of his rage; on the man whom he once called friend, but was only using Sam for his own gain. Face stern, lips pursed and jaw set, there was so much that Sam wanted to say. There was so much anger just beneath the surface, ready to burst out and rip Brady apart.

“You see, Brady…” Dean smirked, knowing the upper hand was theirs. “We're the ones you should be afraid of”

Brady just rolled his eyes, trying to maintain an illusion of superiority. His attention focused on the knife in Sam’s hand, watching as it span between his fingers - a casual expression of dominance. Sam made a move to walk towards Brady, knife somewhat raised, and this incited a reaction.

Brady’s lips formed a tight line, causing creases on one side as his sneer became more prominent. “ I bet this is a real moment for you, big boy. Gonna make you feel all better?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he continued to stalk the man before him. “What do you mean?”

Scoffing, Brady’s back hit the wall. He hadn’t realised he had been inching away. “You’re going to kill me. It’s obvious. Is it gonna make up for all the times we yanked your chain? All the times you misplaced your trust, honoring demons with your loyalty. _You_ are the one that let us in. Ever wonder why that is? Why you keep allying yourself with my kind? Maybe it’s because deep down, we’re the same, you and me.”

Sam shook his head, a small smile gracing his features, causing Brady to rethink his assessment of the situation. “You really think i’m going to _kill_ you?” Sam paced forward, slowly, getting into Brady’s face. “If I did that, i’d be giving you _exactly_ what you want.” He placed his hand on the wall behind the bloodied, blonde man, lifting the knife to his jaw. “You _want_ me to kill you. You _want_ me to make it quick, so that Lucifer can’t get to you.” Sam pressed the tip of the blade into Brady’s throat, piercing the skin, watching as a trickle of blood made it’s way towards the demon’s collar bone. “So,” He smiled, removed the blade and stepped away, “I’m going to let you live.”

Brady’s posture fell, his face expressionless. “What?”

“You deserve to suffer for what you did to me; for what you did to _Jess._ ” A deep growl left Sam’s throat, the fury he felt finally reaching it’s peak. “I’m going to leave you here, put out an APB to all Lucifer’s followers, and lead them right to you.”

“What kind of revenge is that?!” Brady’s cries reeked of desperation. “You are so pathetic, thinking that you will actually feel satisfied with such mediocre torture.”

Sam frowned, shaking his head. “I’ll be satisfied knowing that you are suffering at the hands of the devil himself. _You’re_ the pathetic one, Brady.” He turned, facing away from the broken shell of a man he used to know. “Take it like a man, and I hope we _never_ see each other again.”

Brady shook, his fight or flight response kicking in. Pulling up his pant leg, he grabbed his concealed knife from it’s holster and charged - his last stand.

Nonetheless, someone spotted Brady’s actions before either Winchester. Max jumped from Dean’s arms, hackles raised and teeth bared, sprinting towards the man who sought to harm his new owner. He leaped, throwing himself at Brady’s chest, knocking him over and clamping his jaw around the smooth flesh of Brady’s neck.

Sam spun around in shock. Max’s growls were venomous, full of malicious intent. His eyes glowed gold in the dim light, looking to Sam for instruction. Brady’s eyes were wide, his breaths shallow, not that he needed to breathe, but being suddenly attacked by a Jack Russell Terrier who looked small enough to fit in a lady’s handbag would do that to a person.

Gold met hazel, and Sam knew that Max wouldn’t make a move until he said so. The dog was loyal, extremely so. “Max,” The growling stopped at the sound of Sam’s voice, “release him.”

Max did just that, stalking his way back to Sam, backwards, still facing Brady and snarling. Brady didn’t move, he laid there, his body seemingly going into a sudden rigormortis. Once both Sam and Max were over the salt line, Max scratched at Sam’s pant leg. Sam smiled, picking up his dog, earning a small lick to the nose. He nodded at Dean, both heading for the car and getting inside. Before they drove off, however, Sam swore he heard something. It was small, wistful and quiet - so much so that he originally thought it came from his own head. But it was not his voice.

_’I’m proud of you, Kiddo.’_


	5. This Is What Dreams Are Made Of

Ominous darkness filled the void that was Sam’s mind, but he was not in it.

He was standing in a globe of golden light, the presence that provided him with much needed peace enveloping him in it’s being.

A crack resonated in the surrounding shadows, bringing Sam to his knees. He wrapped his arms around his legs, looking up at where the dark entity was beginning to break through. It oozed through the gap in the gold, aiming to reach the Winchester at the bottom. For what reason, he didn’t know.

Sam prayed - He prayed for the light to save him; to protect him; to keep him safe.

His prayers were answered.

_"Anything for you, Sam."_

Warmth; Strength; Power.

The light battled the black abyss. It pushed back the hate, the loathing, the pain, filling Sam with that familiar warmth that he never wanted to let go of.

It was all over too soon.

_"Time to wake up, Kiddo."_

Sam woke up in another unfamiliar bed; in another run down motel. Although, something felt different.

He felt protected.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Sam left early that morning for a run, to clear his mind, coming back to find Dean watching tv with Max. ‘Every which way but loose’ was just coming to an end, credits beginning to roll - Philo, Orville, Echo and their monkey friend finally heading home.

Sam toed off his running shoes, removing his headphones. “How long you been up?”

Dean turned his head, acknowledging his brother had entered the room. “Couple of hours. How about you?”

“Since about 4.” Sam stretched, cracking his back. Some day he was going to have to come to terms with the fact that he was getting on in years. “I bet you just replayed the diner scene over and over again, like when we were kids.”

“Hey the diner scene was hilarious, okay? The way Orville just sat there while Philo beat those black widows to a pulp? Classic, man.” Dean relaxed into the armchair he was currently occupying, happily stroking the dog in his lap. “Besides, my little Deputy here agrees with me.”

Sam almost choked on thin air. “Little Deputy?”

“Well yeah,” Dean stared down at Max, the slightest trace of a smile lingering on his lips. “A Sheriff's gotta have a loyal deputy, and this mutts pretty damn loyal.” He rubbed the top of Max’s head, leading Max to whine when he stopped. “He proved that when he protected your sorry ass.”

Sam grinned, chuckling through his teeth, “I knew he was growing on you.”

Dean met Sam’s gaze, a serious glint in his eye. “He protected my little brother - course he has.”

The cough that followed Dean’s sentimental words was enough to defuse the awkward tension. Sam was still touched nevertheless. “Whatever, man. I’ll leave you and your monkey movies in peace.”

“His name is _Clyde_ ”

Sam laughed, making his way into the motel kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers and chucking one to his brother, who caught it in perfect synergy. Dean took a sip of his beer, settling down to watch another film when,

“Hello boys.”

Startled, Dean spat out his drink, coating the T.V. screen with Budweiser. Max leaped off of the hunter’s lap, growling at the intruders feet.

“God _damn_ it Crowley.” Dean stood up, shaking his wet hands and glaring at the well dressed demon in their motel room - may his tailor rest in pieces. “You’re getting as bad as Cas.”

Bringing his thumb and forefinger to his lips, Sam whistled for Max to come to his side. He followed the command without a second thought, moving to sit at Sam’s heal.

Crowley followed Max with his eyes, eyebrows creasing in the centre. “Charming, here I am bringing you some good news for once, and all I get is rude comments and a rabid mutt. I can just _feel_ the appreciation.”

“Cut the crap Crowley, just tell us what you’re here for.” Dean was getting impatient, the less time he had to spent with the sarcastic bastard, the better.

Rolling his eyes, Crowley scoffed, fixing Dean with an irritated expression. “I just came to politely inform you that your beautifully diseased ring bearer’s plans have been delayed until next week. So, you have been brought a little time.”

Sam put a hand on his hip, holding onto the counter with the other. “But, how? What did you do?”

“You can thank me later, chaps.” Crowley dusted off his cuffs, checking his nails in indifference. “I’m fed up of the questions. I expect you to return the favor someday.” He walked towards the door, reaching for the handle, but stopping suddenly. “Oh, and, you better figure out a plan soon,” his voice lowered, promising future misfortune, “or we’re _all_ going to end up as Lucifer’s leftovers.” Opening the door, he raised a hand behind him in goodbye. “Call me if you need me. Ta-ta, fellas.”

“He disappeared again?” Dean raised an eyebrow, perplexed. Sam just sighed, unable to believe his brother could still ask stupid questions in dire situations.

“Yeah, he does that. Come on,” Sam pulled up a chair, seating himself at the coffee table and booting up his laptop. “We’ve got work to do.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

No information, no leads and no breaks. The Winchesters were running on nothing but hot air and caffeine. They had no idea what, exactly, they were looking for. All they knew was that they would know it when they saw it.

Sam shut his laptop in frustration, getting up to grab himself another cup of coffee. He almost smashed the coffee pot, seeing that it was empty, but calmed himself, putting on another batch. Dean groaned in discontent, connecting his forehead to a desk with a loud thump.

“Cas is AWOL, Pestilence is a no show and we have no new ideas on how to stop the apocalypse. I’ve had it!” Dean threw up his arms, then forcefully pushed himself away from the table, standing to grab his jacket.

Sam switched on the coffee machine, but jumped when he heard his brothers loud exclamation. He faced him, raising an eyebrow, watching as he moved for the door. “Where are you going?”

“Out. I need some air.” With that, Dean shut the door behind him, footsteps fading into the distance.

Taking a deep breath, Sam turned to face the counter again, before hearing a sympathetic whine beneath him. He looked down, seeing Max sitting at his feet, head tilted and eyes wide, with a pillow between his teeth. Max dropped the pillow at Sam’s feet, looking at him expectantly. Sam chuckled, picking up the pillow and patting Max's head.  
“Yeah, okay, I hear ya.” Neither Winchester had slept in over 24 hours; Sam supposed that the coffee would still be there when he awoke. He yawned, grabbed a bottle of water and headed to bed. Maybe some sleep would do him good.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The darkness was practically abolished, the presence lighting every corner; every cavern of Sam’s mind.

He was curious, however, as to what, or who, was protecting him from his own thoughts. Who would want to go out of their own way to put an end to Sam’s nightmares? Who in their right mind would care so much about _him_ of all people?

_“Do you really not know, Kiddo?”_

A figure, essence of gold, wings of pure light; eye spanning the wisdom of galaxies. They were an angel. That, Sam was sure of. Although, why would an angel want to help him? He was unclean - tainted. He was Lucifer’s vessel; the boy king. His happiness wasn’t worth protecting.

_“No, nu-uh, please don’t think like that. You are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for.”_

The angel moved slowly towards him. Sam was transfixed; mesmerised by the overflowing power, yet unbelievable feeling of calmness that radiated from them.

“You…You can hear my thoughts?”

_“I’m inside your head, Samalamb. Of course I can hear your thoughts.”_

When the angel reached Sam, they seemed shorter than he had expected, meaning that this probably wasn’t their true form. A light hand found its way onto Sam’s chest. He looked down into pools of ethereal gold, filled with kindness, regret and, most of all, loyalty. They had a smile that reached their eyes, laugh lines forming from years of joy, and an expression full of trickery, but not dishonesty.

_Trickery?_

The angel beamed at Sam’s thoughts, meaning that he had probably caught on.

_“And quicker than I expected too. You’ve always been full of surprises, Sam.”_

Sam took a step back, overwhelmed by the prospect that someone he had seen die; someone who sacrificed himself to protect others, was standing before him; not to mention that he had been the one bringing Sam peace of mind, for not of his own benefit.

“…Gabriel?”

Gabriel smirked, although his eyes lacked their usual gleam. He brought up his hand, bringing his thumb and finger together, not losing eye-contact for a second.

_“Time to wake up, Kiddo.”_

Sam’s eyes shot open, gold still in his vision. There was a smile, a smirk, above him. It was barely there, but it was him, if only for a few seconds. He saw the outline, an outline he had seen many a time before. The light was translucent; Sam was still able to see the flamingo wallpaper behind it. The figure was not quite solid. His heart ached as the gold faded away, but even when it was gone, he didn’t feel alone.

Dean always used to tell him that their mother said angels were watching over them. _’Well,’_ Sam thought, _’maybe one.’_

 

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art is by Janimoon on tumblr! She is amazing and you should so go check out her blog!  
> Here's the link to the art! ---> http://janimoon.tumblr.com/post/144222615024/rare-pair-big-bang-art-for-gabe-trashs-angels


	6. Bringing in Backup

“What do you mean you saw _Gabriel_?”

Dean paced up and down Bobby’s living room, fiddling with his hands as he did so. The air was heavy; the atmosphere tense. He wasn’t taking the news well.

Sam sighed, pushing the hair from his face.  
“It’s like I said, Gabriel came to me in a dream. Well, multiple actually.”

“What are you, the virgin Mary?” Dean spun around to address his brother properly. “This is ridiculous! Gabriel is _dead,_ Sam”

“Don’t you think I know that, Dean?!” Sam had to forcefully compose himself, “this is why I didn’t tell you until I was sure.”

“And, are you?”

Sam held his breath for a few seconds before answering - “Yes.”

Dean screwed his eyes shut, feeling the throb of an impending migraine.   
“Come on Bobby,” he turned his attention to the other man in the room, “You can’t actually believe this crap?”

Bobby shrugged, “The crap is believable.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Dean’s mouth gaped in shock, he couldn’t process what he was hearing.

Bobby just shook his head, “He was an archangel; there’s no tellin’ what they’re capable of.” He wheeled himself to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of hunter’s helper. “They could even find a way to come back from the dead, who knows.”  After removing the cap, Bobby took a long swig, welcoming it into his system. “Besides, not to be blunt or anything but if anyone is an expert on hallucinations here, it’s Sam. If he says what he saw was real, hell, I believe him.”

Sam smiled sincerely at the man who had become like a father to him; he really appreciated Bobby’s take no crap attitude at times like this.  
“Thanks Bobby.”

“Fine, okay, let’s say that Sam really did see Gabriel in his dreams,” Dean resigned himself to cooperate with being out-voted, “what would his reason be? I mean, it’s not like he particularly liked us.”

Sam’s cheeks began to turn a bright shade of crimson as he thought back to Gabriel’s words the previous night - ‘ _You are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for.’_

Dean stared at him curiously, obviously noticing the change in his brother’s face.  
“Anything you want to share with the rest of the class, Sam?”

Sam cleared his throat, removing the memory from his mind.  
“I’m fine - I was actually wondering the same thing to be honest.”  He sat down on the nearby sofa, Max taking up his usual spot on his lap. “All he seemed to be doing was getting rid of my nightmares.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yes Dean I suffer with nightmares, we both do, but that’s not the point.” Sam lifted Max so that he was face to face with him, staring into his golden eyes. “He had no other motive that I could think of.”

Bobby pursed his lips in thought, “that’s one messed up situation you’ve got yourself there.” He rolled over to where Sam was sitting, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well, Son, I’d say you’ve got to figure this one out on your own. Nothing we can do for ya at this point. But, if you need us, we’re here. Right?” Bobby turned his gaze on Dean, waiting for confirmation.

“That’s what family does, right? Course we’ll be here.” Dean may have found the whole Gabriel thing hard to believe, but he would never abandon his brother. “In the meantime, any news on Sneezy?”

“Crowley said that Pestilence isn’t going to make a move for another few days,” Sam continued to calm himself by rubbing Max’s stomach, “It might be some time before we hear anything.”

Dean wasn’t given the chance to reply; his phone began to ring. Only so many people knew his personal number. He checked the caller ID, then answered it immediately.  
“Cas?”

Sam looked up, eyes full of concern, but they in no way compared to Dean’s.  
“Is he okay?”

Dean raised his hand to silence his brother before speaking into the receiver,  
“Where the hell are you, man? We were worried sick.”

“A hospital.”

Dean’s face went from concern to panic.   
“Are you okay?”

“No.”

It took a few seconds for Dean to process the short answer.  
“...You wanna elaborate?”

“I just woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised. They thought I was brain-dead.”

A very audible gulp emanated from Dean’s throat.  
“S-so, a hospital?”

“Apparently, after Van Nuys, I suddenly appeared, bloody and unconscious, on a shrimping boat off Delacroix. I'm told it upset the sailors.”

Dean had to hold in a laugh at the seriousness of Cas’ words, resolving to get straight to the point. “Uh, well, I got to tell you, man. You're just in time. We could really use your help. Sammy here’s convinced that your dickish archangel-turned-trickster brother is still alive and sending him messages in his dreams using some kind of vulcan mind meld.”

“Not that I understand what a ‘vulcan mind meld’ is, I assume that you mean Sam is seeing Gabriel in his dreams?”

Dean smirked, proud of the way Cas had come to learn to understand him these past few months. “Yeah that pretty much covers it.” He could hear Cas hum in thought over the phone, pondering to himself.

“That is very unlikely. Couldn't it be possible that Sam has developed some kind of bond with Gabriel, causing him to mourn his passing?”

“Not a chance, Cas,” Dean hushed his voice for a moment, so that he couldn’t be heard by those in the room. “Do you remember what we told you about that mystery spot? He tortured him.”

“If I recall, my brother saved your lives. There are theories behind such a connection being made, one example being the Florence Nightingale effect. Are you familiar with the concept?”

“Yeah, Cas. I’m familiar with the concept.” His voice returned to its normal level, leaving a questioning look on Sam’s face. “My point still stands. There’s something _'not-human'_ going on. So, if you could just zap on over here that would be great.”

Cas sighed, grunting. “I can't _‘zap’_ anywhere”

“What do you mean?”

“You could say my, uh, batteries… are drained.”

“So...what?” Dean rhythmically tapped the wooden doorframe he had since leant up against, “You’re out of angel mojo?”

“I'm saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I'm saying that I'm just incredibly…” Castiel sighed in frustration, unable to finish his sentence.

Dean was thankfully able to finish it for him - “Human. Wow. Sorry.”

“Well, my point is... I can't go anywhere without money for...an airplane ride. And food. And more pain medication, ideally.”

Biting the smile away, Dean looked to the other 2 men in the room. “Alright, you sit tight. Bobby will wire you the money.”

Bobby glared at his adopted son, “I will?”

“And, i’ll pick you up from the airport. Call me when you know your flights,” Dean finished, offering Bobby an apologetic smile.

“Dean, wait.”

His attention fell back to the phone call, more specifically, the person on the other end.

“You said ‘no’ to Michael. I owe you an apology.”

“Cas...It’s-it's okay.” Dean faced away from his company, feeling slightly awkward.

“Some said that you were burnt and broken shell of a man. For a time, I believed them. But now, you have proven them wrong.”

“Thank you. I… I appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

The drive to the airport lasted about an hour, and Dean was thankful that Cas had managed to board a plane on his own. The thought of flying made him feel sick - it was not his favourite activity to say the least. With the aid of mobile communication, Castiel found his way to the impala, making their way back to Sam, in their most recent run-down motel.

“It was a very strange sensation,” Cas spoke, jostling Dean from his thoughts, “flying without the use of my wings.”

Dean hummed, considering just how difficult it must be for his friend to lose an ability he was born with.

“Also,” The wayward angel gripped his stomach, appearing quite queasy, “it seems this vessel has an affinity for what the flight attendant called _‘air sickness.’_ ”

A loud chuckle emanated from the driver’s seat, Dean steadying himself so that he remained in control of the car. “An angel with airsickness, now that’s irony.”

Cas raised an eyebrow in the hunter’s direction, something he had picked up in the time he knew them. “I do not see how it’s exactly humorous, however it is good to see you laugh. It has been a while.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “with all of this apocalypse crap goin’ on, it’s kinda hard to find the light side, ya know?”

“Well then, let me provide a silver lining of sorts.”

Dean jumped, screeching the impala to a halt at the side of the road. “Jesus Christ Crowley! At least Cas makes a noise when he zaps in.”

“I apologise for my lack of feathery appendages. Did I startle the squirrel?” Crowley looked quite content, relaxing in the back seat, a subtle smirk on his lips.

“Can it Crowley, why are you here, and what do you mean by silver lining?”

“The phrase is most commonly used to emphasize the hopeful side of a situation, no matter how dark it may seem.” Cas announced, appearing very pleased with himself.

Dean placed his head in his palm, while Crowley glanced between the two with a bemused look on his face.

“Is your angel always so literal?”

Dean sighed, “always.” He took a breath before continuing, “Anyway, why’d you drop in?”

Crowley grinned, “heard Moose has been having a few _interesting_ dreams to say the least.”

“How’d you-”

“Bugged your cellphone. But, that’s besides the point.” Crowley all but physically waved off Dean’s violated look, choosing to carry on talking. “I always had a feeling, but no evidence to back up my theory. These dreams _finally_ give it some validity.

“Crowley,” Castiel interrupted from the passenger seat, giving the demon a stern look, “We do not have a lot of time. So, i’m sure we would both appreciate you giving us the information and not going off tangent.”

Dean smirked, proud of the way Cas handled himself. “Yeah, what he said.”

Groaning, Crowley rolled his eyes, obviously unimpressed.  
“You two are no fun.” He tapped his chin in contemplation, “just, tell that idiot brother of yours to pay more attention to his dreams. There are more people willing to help out,” Dean and Cas shared a look, “even the ones that are already dead.”

Expectedly, Crowley disappeared, leaving two men with a lot to mull over. “God damn it, Crowley. Couldn’t you be any more cryptic!?”

“I don’t think he can hear you, Dean.”

“I know, Cas.” Dean shoved the keys into the ignition, a dire need to return to his brother burning in his bones. “I know.”


	7. Spilling the Beans

_ ’Well then…,’  _ Sam mused to himself, looking around an unfamiliar apartment,  _ ’I definitely haven’t had  _ **_this_ ** _ dream before.’  _

“You’re damn right you haven’t, sweetcheeks. This is my own little slice of heaven.”

Sam, heart skipping a few beats, almost fell over in shock. He turned, aiming to find the source of the voice, eyes finally landing on a mop of sandy blonde hair and golden eyes. “Gabriel?”

“The one and only!” Gabriel grinned, bowing dramatically, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“In  _ my _ head.” 

“Details, Details,” the supposedly deceased archangel waved his hand in dismissal, before throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “Wanna drink?”

Weary of Gabriel’s motives, Sam politely declined, “No thanks, i’d rather have information.” 

Gabriel sighed, flopping down on the sofa in the centre of the room, patting the space next to him. “Well, you might want to sit down Sam-my-man. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” The angel had wanted to draw the conversation out, make sure Sam was relaxed around him before getting to the important stuff. Sadly, it seemed like he had no choice. 

Sam made his way over to him, eyeing Gabriel carefully, reassuring himself that nothing bad would come of trusting the man who sent him into a time loop where his brother died over and over again. Then again, he  _ did _ save their lives, sacrificing himself to give them information. There was also the matter of protecting Sam from nightmares, which he still couldn’t fathom out the reason for. Shrugging, he sat down, giving the golden eyed wavelength of celestial intent his undivided attention. 

Snapping his fingers, Gabriel materialised a glass of, theoretically, some form of alcohol, taking a sip to calm his nerves.    
“You must have a lot of questions. Let me answer a couple for you right off the bat. One,” he brought the glass up into Sam’s line of vision, “Yes this is a martini, it’s called the porn star. And two,” Gabriel took a deep breath, “am I dead? Yes... and no.”

Sam watched as Gabriel repeatable tapped his upper arm with his left hand; as his eyes fell from Sam’s own. He was very nervous.   
“Let’s start with going into a bit more detail on that last one.” Sam gave him a reassuring smile. He trusted Gabriel, but was unable to understand why. Maybe talking to him would help him learn. 

Full of surprise and curiosity, Gabriel’s eyes met Sam’s once more. “Well, my physical form  _ is  _ dead, I suppose. It’s gone, kaput; complete nothingness - it no longer exists.” The subject was very much a touchy one in Gabriel’s case, however he continued to smile. “But, it could exist again.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, intrigued with where the conversation was going. “Go on…”

Gabriel grinned, glad that Sam was playing along. “My physical form may be gone, but my ethereal form is still around. Well,” He bit his lip, trying his best to explain, “Part of it is anyway.”

“Ethereal?” Sam tilted his head in contemplation, “You mean your grace?”

“Weeeeeeell… Dad, how can I explain this…” Gabriel tapped his foot, trying to think of a comparison. His eyes suddenly lit up; he snapped his fingers and physically turned his body to face Sam. “You’re a nerd right?”

Slightly offended, Sam scowled. “I  _ suppose _ so. It depends on the subject.”

“Harry potter.”

“I’ve read all the books?”

“Perfect.” Rubbing his hands together, Gabriel set to work on explaining, properly this time. “Right, you know horcruxes? Well, you put a part of your soul into an object, and you can theoretically never die as long as the object exists, right? Well, I put part of my grace into an object. But, instead of just leaving it at that, I fused it with my consciousness. Kiiiiinda like Tom Riddle’s Diary, except it’s present me, not fledgling me. You follow?”

Sam nodded slowly, processing the information. “You didn’t kill anyone to make it though, right? If I recall, Voldemort had to commit a murder in order to create his horcrux.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Does myself count?” 

“Touche.” Sam laughed quietly, actually enjoying Gabriel’s company, which he thought would be a shock. It wasn’t.  _ That _ was the shocking part.

“I always had a feeling that if I ever confronted my brother, he would kill me.” Gabriel’s smirk faltered, betrayal filling the void in his heart. “So, when I realised I was going to be facing him, I made sure I was prepared.”

Gabriel’s words cut Sam deep. He had blamed himself for the angel’s death; if it weren’t for him, Gabriel would never have had to face Lucifer at all.    
“So you hid part of yourself away, right?”

“Right,” a warm smile found it’s way in Sam’s direction, twisting his stomach in knots. “I left it with the only person I thought I could trust.”

Sam visibly gulped, sensing Gabriel’s next words we’re going to hit home.   
“Who?”

The smile remained, “You, Sam.” Gabriel scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I left it with you.”

Sam was silent for a few seconds, not able to comprehend what he had heard. Gabriel trusted him,  _ him, _ to look after the only thing keeping him,  _ somewhat,  _ alive.   
“W-why?” Sam stuttered, “Why me? 

“Why not you?” Gabriel was honestly confused, “Who else would I give it to? I have no one else.”

“What about Cas?”

“Cassie? Baby bro’s still under angel radar. You? You’re hidden,  _ and _ trustworthy. You actually want to save the  _ world _ , Sugar-Snap. And, well, I have an unconditional trust in you that I can’t understand.”

Laughter. Sam burst out into a fit of hysterics at Gabriel’s words. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. “You too huh?” He managed to talk between giggles.

“Huh?”

“The trust thing,” Sam tried to steady his voice, “It’s the same for me. I don’t get it.” 

Gabriel let out a few chuckles himself, laughing at the unlikelihood of it all.    
“That’s a conversation for another date, right now we need to talk about Max.”

“Max?” Sam’s eyebrows flew into his hairline, “Is Max your horcrux?!”

“What?! Dad, no. I’d never do that to my precious little Maxie. Damn, I miss that pooch.” Gabriel stared whimsically at a photo frame on the coffee table - it held a picture of both him and Max, enjoying a day at the park. Sam was right, Gabriel really  _ did _ love his dog. 

“Then why do we need to talk about him? Do you just want to know how he’s doing?” 

“Oh I know he’s okay, I can see him at all times.”

Sam just stared at him. He didn’t speak; his face said everything Gabriel needed to know. Namely,  _ ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’ _

Gabriel cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah, I guess that could use a bit more explanation, Huh?” He didn’t wait for an answer, knowing that he would be met with another bitch face and more silence. “I didn’t make Max my horcrux, but he is taking care of it for me.” After placing his Porn Star on the table, Gabriel picked up the photo frame, pointing to the small Jack Russell in the photo. “You see this?” He circled Max’s collar with his finger. “See the tiny ID tube, next to the tag?” Sam nodded, “That’s my horcrux. You open that, an a  _ miniscule  _ amount of my grace comes out - grace fused with my consciousness.” 

Sam hummed, pieces finally beginning to fit together. Although, he still had a few more questions. “Okay, I understand all of the grace-horcrux-Max stuff. What I don’t understand is how you are talking to me if you’re contained in Max’s ID tube.” 

“Reasonable question,” Gabriel mused aloud, laying the photo frame in his lap. “I guess you could say that I have just enough control of my ethereal form to project myself into your dreams.” 

“Project?”

“Yeah, like... you know astral projection? That kind of thing, but from an aluminium tube.”

Gabriel’s complete nonchalance had Sam, once again, in fits of giggles. He hadn’t laughed like that in such a long time, it was a welcome change.   
“Okay, okay,” He stifled that last of his laughter, “I have one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why?”

“Uhhh…” Gabriel gesticulated wildly with his hands, moving them in circular motions in search for more information. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, Sam. Why what, exactly?”

Sam’s words got lost in his throat, he had hoped Gabriel would catch on. He had to force them past his lips. “Um, why? Why go through the trouble of… getting rid of my nightmares...when you could have just contacted me like this?”

Gabriel looked down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly. “Simple answer? I couldn’t just contact you. I could only project so much of myself at a time. It got easier the more I tried.”

Sam looked at Gabriel,  _ really _ looked at him. He saw the way his head was tilted downwards, his bangs covering those stunning golden eyes. He saw how he fidgeted when under pressure, fighting the urge to speak his mind. He saw the way his lips fell into a frown, cutting away at Sam’s soul. “There’s more to it, isn’t there.” Gabriel looked up at Sam, through the small partings in his bangs, gold glinting through sandy blond. “You didn’t just help me so that you could practice.”

Gabriel made a defeated noise in the back of his throat, cocking his head back up. “You would have made a fantastic lawyer, Kiddo.” He clicked his tongue, “Yeah, there is. It’s because I wanted to.”

“You…  _ wanted _ to?”

“Yeah, I wanted to. I saw you were suffering and I just… couldn’t leave you like that. I had to do something to help.” He looked away from Sam for a final time, embarassed that he had to show his softer side for a change. The only living creature who has seen said side for centuries, had been Max. They both have the same bloody puppy-dog eyes. 

“Thank you.”

“Huh?” Gabriel stared at Sam’s face; it was so full of sincerity. 

“I said thank you. Really, thank you so much Gabe.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the shortening of his name, before deciding he liked it enough to let it slide.    
“Anytime, really.” Gabe’s eyes suddenly widened to the size of dinner plates, “Oh! Right! Before you go, there is something you still need to know.”

“And, what’s that?” Sam was smiling, he felt at peace with Gabriel by his side. It was an unlikely scenario, but he accepted it full heartedly.  

“How to bring me back.” Gabe chuckled nervously, unable to believe he forgot to tell Sam the most important part. Sam was listening intently, waiting for instruction. Gabriel shook his head fondly - the kid was something else. “Right, You know that little hotel where I got turned into an angelic shishkabob? Well, all of the murdered pagans, including yours truly, were found by the local authorities. We were all buried in the nearby cemetery. When you find my grave, you need to open the tube and pour the grace onto the soil. It should be enough to revive me.”

“Should?” Sam worried his lip between his teeth; he didn’t like the lack of confidence in Gabriel's voice. 

“Well, this isn’t an exact science Samaroo. It’s all theory; a theory I have thought long and hard over. At this point, it’s so far so good.” 

Sam’s shoulders slumped, he should have known that it wouldn’t work for definite. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I can’t bring you back?”

Sam felt pressure on his thigh, finding a pair of hands resting there, providing warmth - the same warmth he had felt before.

“If you can’t bring me back Sam, I will die being forever grateful that you did all you could to save me.” Gabriel smiled up at him, eyes brimming. He then stood, brushed Sam’s hair from his face, and kissed his temple.

_ “Time to wake up, Kiddo.” _

Sam’s eyes opened, a serene expression enveloping his features. He reached up to touch his temple, and beamed. Unexpectedly, Dean chose that very moment to barge into the motel room, trenchcoated angel in tow. 

They took one look at each other, then repeated a phrase they had used many times in the past. 

**_“We need to talk.”_ **


	8. Getting the Band Back Together

“So, what?” Dean sat on the bed opposite his brother, while Castiel stood off in the corner, “He’s just been chilling in Max’s collar this whole time?”

Sam mumbled curses under his breath, getting tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. “Yes, and no. He isn’t _‘chilling’_ anywhere. His grace and consciousness are inside the ID tube, but he can’t actually leave.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Dean responded sheepishly, earning a groan in response, from both sides of the room.

The addition of Castiel’s frustration at least meant that he actually understood Sam’s explanation. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” Cas turned his attention from one brother, to the other, waiting to be of service.

“Do you think Gabe’s plan will work? D’ya think we could bring him back?”

Castiel was going to question the unusual shortening of his brother’s given name, but decided against it when he saw just how serious the younger Winchester was.  
“It isn’t _im_ possible. The theoretical knowledge is accurate, however…” He stood there awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to do with his limbs in this type of situation, “I cannot be certain that it will work.”

Sam physically deflated at Cas’ honesty - he already knew it was a long shot from how Gabe spoke to him, but hearing it from Cas just made it all the more real.

Dean, seeing how Cas’ words affected his little brother, deciding to be a good sibling and step in. “Look, I don’t know why you care about the little shit so much, but he did help us get this far. Having him back… might make the putting the devil back in the box thing a whole lot easier.”

Sam glanced over at his brother, grateful that he was on board with the idea. Max nudged at his hands, nuzzling his way under them to lie on his lap. He tickled the underneath Max’s chin, following his neck down until he reached his collar, taking the tube between his fingers.

Cas strolled over to Sam’s bedside, tapping him on the shoulder. “May I?” He asked, gesturing to the metal tube which held his brother’s essence. Sam nodded, moving over so that Cas could sit next to him. Cas reached for the tube, flinching when his fingers brushed the surface.

Dean stood up quickly, “Hey, you okay man?”

“I am fine, Dean. I was just… surprised. Gabriel’s non-corporeal form is indeed contained within this small piece of metal, but I did not expect it to reach out to me as it did.”

Dean gave Cas a questionable look, “That a good or a bad thing?”

“Good,” Cas smiled, relieved. “It means that he is aware of his surroundings.”

“Well, isn’t this just touching.”

Dean made a move to stand in front of his family, but relaxed, if only a little, when he saw who was at their door. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

Crowley shrugged, eyeing Max from the doorway. “ _Ello_ there my pretty.”

Max growled from his place on Sam’s lap, refusing to move even if forced. Crowley brushed it off. “If I heard correctly, you’re all heading to Indiana pretty soon.”

“Yeah, and what of it?” Dean retorted, all four walls up, glaring at the crossroads demon in his motel room.

“Look, if I recall, we’re all on the same side in this. And, i’m pretty sure our angel of Thursday here couldn’t zap you that far, or at all, for the time being.”

Castiel looked down at his feet, shuffling from side to side. Crowley was right, his batteries were completely drained, and there was no way for them to all make it to Indiana and back before the apocalypse was in full swing.

Sam grumbled, “What do you suggest?” It wasn’t that he trusted Crowley, in fact, there was no one he trusted less, besides the Devil himself. But, what other choice did they have?

Crowley smirked, his aura of superiority returning. “I could zap you there, myself. But, you have to assure me that after this whole thing is over, you’ll leave me to my own business; that you won’t hunt me down. It’s not an official deal, no souls or payment, just a man’s word."

Dean clenched his fists; Castiel his teeth. They both silently came to the decision that this was Sam’s choice. Whatever he went with, it would be unanimous.

Sam stared down at the golden eyed pooch in his lap, thinking back to his dream and just how safe he felt with Gabriel. He was sure that if they got him back, things would start looking up. They didn’t have a choice.

“Fine,” He bit his lip, stroking Max’s brow, “You have a deal.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

“You chaps all set?” Crowley asked, leaning against the impala, waiting for the word to send them on their way.

“I am,” Sam responded, carrying Max close to his chest, “Dean’s just showing Cas how to properly load a shotgun, then we’ll be ready to go.”

Crowley chuckled, “Is that what they're calling it these days. Well, no matter.” He squinted into the distance, “Here they come now.”

Sam refused to even honor Crowley with a response that time, waving over his brother. When they were all finally gathered together, Crowley spoke up.

“Just so you know, you can text me for a lift back. Who needs summoning rituals when you have a phone?”

“Yeah yeah, just get us to the hotel, okay?” Dean blurted, exasperated with Crowley’s arrogant attitude.

Crowley rolled his eyes, “See you later, fellas.”

The next time Sam opened his eyes, he was in a very familiar room. The tiled walls, wooden floor, elegantly long tables and red dining chairs all brought back some very unpleasant memories. Max whined loudly, drawing all three men’s attention. Sam flinched. In the centre of the room were very large outlines, formed out of ash. Gabriel’s 6 wings spread across the floor as elegantly as they would if they had been whole. Max sat at the base of the first set, whimpering softly. Sam walked up to Max, kneeling beside him.  
“Hey there, boy. Let’s go get him back, yeah?” Max licked his hand in reply, dragging himself away from the wings he knew so well.

“Dean, you got the map?” Sam questioned, a need to gauge the area building.

“Yeah hold on,” Dean pulled the map from his pocket, unfolding it until he found their location. “What’cha looking for?”

“Gabriel told me that he was buried in a nearby cemetery…” Sam scanned the page, looking for anything that could match the description. “Hey, here we go.” He pointed to a cemetery about a 10 minute walk from the hotel. “This has got to be it, come on, let’s go.”

“Wait.”

The Winchester’s stopped in their tracks at the sound of Castiel’s voice. The angel had become less commanding of late, so it had to be important.

“What’s wrong, Cas?”

Cas looked at them both indecipherably, his face was blank but there were thoughts crowding behind his eyes.  
“Do you know what name Gabriel was buried under?”

“What?” Dean questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Wouldn’t it just be ‘ _Gabriel_?’ I didn’t think angels had last names.”

“Angels don’t, but humans _do._ Knowing my brother, he would have either had an alias, or no identification whatsoever.”

His mouth gaping, Dean growled, “Great. Just, great. Now what do we do? It’s not like we have unlimited calls to the afterlife. What should we do? Hope heaven will accept the charges?”

A quiet bark halted the conversation. Max stood in front of Sam, front paws resting on his shoe. Sam stared down at him, before eventually catching on.  
“Good boy!” He scratched the dog’s lower back in thanks, “You’re brilliant!”

“Uh, anyone gonna fill me in here?” Dean looked between both Max and his brother, considering the possibility that Sam was a telekinetic dog whisperer.

“Oh, uh, right.” Sam smiled sheepishly, forgetting that not everyone was privy to his dreams. “Well, the only reason we know about any of this at all, is because I can talk to Gabriel in my sleep. If I could… I dunno… take a nap or something, I might be able to find out exactly where he’s buried.”

“So, you sleep on the job while Cas and I sit here twiddling our thumbs like a couple of old ladies? Shall I grab the knitting needles?” Dean ran his hand down his face, “Do you really think you’ll be able to sleep in _this_ hotel of all places? You know what happened here.”

“I just might be able to help with that, actually.”

Sam and Dean drew their attention back to their resident angel of the lord, who seemed to be heading in Sam’s direction. “I may not be able to transport you places, but putting you to sleep is but a simple task.”

Dean put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, “You sure you’re up to it, man?”

“I am sure, Dean. Whenever you’re ready Sam.”

Sam nodded, lying on the nearest clear patch of flooring. “See you when I wake, I guess.”

Cas brought two fingers to Sam’s forehead, knocking him out instantly. Max curled up next to him, getting as close as possible. If the situation wasn’t so serious, Dean could have almost called it cute.

“I suppose it’s up to them now.”


	9. For the Last Time?

“Gabriel? Gabriel are you here? I need to talk to you!” Sam was wondering around the same apartment he had left the archangel in previously. The living room was no longer occupied, and the terrace was empty. He popped his head around the kitchen door, as a last resort, only to be greeted by quite the site. “Gabe?”

Gabriel was standing by the kitchen stove, flipping pancakes, and wearing a ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron - a chef’s hat atop his head.

Sam practically snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. This was not the time to be enjoying himself, but he just couldn’t help it. Gabriel looked absolutely ridiculous.

“Evening, Samsquatch.” Gabe snapped his fingers, clearing away all the mess he had created in his cooking endeavor, leaving only a pile of syrup drizzled pancakes on the dining room table. “What are you doing here?”

“I should really be asking you that, since it’s my head an all.” Sam smirked, pulling up a chair. Gabriel joined him, intrigued by what could have brought Sam there voluntarily.

“Touché, so what’s up?” Gabe began to slice into his stack of pure fat and calories, offering a fork to Sam. “Feel free to dig in, by the way.”

“I’m fine, honestly.” Sam shook his head fondly, chuckling. “I’m actually here about something that concerns you personally.”

Gabriel had already raised a piece of pancake to his lips, but lowered it as Sam spoke. “Go on.”

“Well, i’m currently asleep on the floor of the Elysian Hotel.” Gabe completely dropped his cutlery, choosing to focus completely on the Winchester in his Kitchen. Sam coughed, feeling slightly exposed, “We know where the cemetery is, but we don’t know what name you were buried under. Any ideas?”

Gabriel contemplated drowning himself in the maple syrup, he completely forgot about the name. He hadn’t had his alias ID on him at the time of his death. After literally slapping himself, he looked at Sam apologetically. “They probably buried me as a John Doe, Sam. I’m sorry.”

Sam sat back in his chair, at a loss. How were they suppose to find Gabriel’s grave now? They had no way to track it.

If Sam was in a cartoon, a light bulb would have appeared above his head. “Gabe, can Max recognise you by smell? Or sense your presence?”

Gabriel appeared confused for a few seconds, then broke out into a toothy grin. “Sammykins, you are a genius! I can’t believe I never thought of it. Max has part of my grace with him at all times; he could easily sense where I was buried - no doubt about it!”

Sam matched Gabriel’s grin with one of his own, completely ecstatic. “This is fantastic! You’ll have your physical form back before you know it.”

Doubt - it can show itself in the most unlikely of places. In this case, behind the golden eyes of a cheerful archangel. Sam reached out to Gabriel, cupping his cheek with his palm. He smiled at him, eyes soft and understanding. Gabriel was afraid to die, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Sam caressed his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “You’re going to be okay. I promise I’ll bring you back.”

Gabriel frowned, his eyes losing their glimmer. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Samshine.”

Sam refused to watch Gabriel crumble; he stood up, walked around the outside of the table and brought him into his arms, running his fingers through the wavy, blond locks. “I _promise_ that i’ll get you home.”

Gabriel refused to cry, not then, not when he had so much to lose. “Thank you, Sam. But,” he bit his lip, “if this _is_ the last time we ever see each other, I want you to know something…” Wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist, burying his face into his stomach. Gabe sniffed, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

_“...It’s time to wake up, Kiddo.”_

 

~*~*~*~

 

Sam awoke with a start, causing Max to yelp in surprise. Cas and Dean had been taking turns watching the entrance, Cas being on watch duty at the time.

Dean saw Sam move in his peripheral vision, calling out for Cas to come back inside. He ran over to his brother’s side, tapping his face lightly, helping him come to.

Sam shook his head, waking himself up, but regretting it when he did. He quickly found his resolve, standing up and striding across the hotel towards the exit.

“Sam? Where are you going? Hey!” Dean called, catching up, Cas following closely behind.

“Gabriel is scared and alone. I know what that’s like, Dean. We need to help him.” Sam never turned back as he spoke, he just continued marching towards his selected destination.

“Do you know where he’s buried then?” Dean finally caught up to his abnormally long legged little brother, keeping a steady pace, “Cause if not, then you’re wasting your time.”

“I may not know where he's buried,” Sam rounded a corner, the cemetery only another 5 minutes away, “but Max does, and he'll lead us straight to him.”

Dean kept silent during the rest of the journey. Cas eventually caught up nearer the end, cursing his very much human body.

The Winchester’s were no strangers to cemeteries, but in terms of size, this one took the cake. It was practically an estate. “Of _course_ Gabriel had to to buried in a fancy place like this. You can practically smell him.”

Sam caught Max’s gaze, “that’s what i’m hoping.” Bending down, Sam fussed Max affectionately. “It’s up to you now, boy,” they held a steady course of eye contact between them for a few moments, a silent conversation taking place in their minds, “Go find him, Maxie. Find Gabriel.”

Max made an understanding whine, then lowered his nose to the floor. He sniffed, walking in circles, scenting out the familiar whiff of candy and angelic energy. He barked loudly, taking off on his own, having locked on to the trail. All 3 men looked at each other, before running after him. Sam was certain that they were getting closer; that Gabe would be home soon. The very thought filled him with joy.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Max?!” A few minutes had passed by, when the small pooch disappeared without a trace. Sam had lost him when he turned a tight corner, speeding off on his own. “Max!”

“Relax, Sammy,” Dean soothed, eyeing his brother sympathetically, “We’ll find him. He couldn’t have gotten that far.”

Sam attempted to reply, but stopped when he heard a quiet snuffling to his left, followed by a subtle mewl. He looked to his brother and Castiel, receiving nods from them respectively. Sam sprinted in the direction of the noise, coming to a clearing. In the middle of the patchy grass, stood a simple, yet elegant, headstone - John Doe written in large, basic font, clearly advertising the fact. Good samaritans had taken it upon themselves to clean the headstone, replacing the flowers with fresh ones and removing any weeds from the grave site.

Sam’s legs were frozen to the spot - he couldn’t make those last final steps. The voice of doubt filled his mind like a disease. What if it didn’t work? Gabriel would be lost to the world forever. Then what would they do? They had no other thoughts on how to open the cage and shove Lucifer back in. The only one they _do_ have is extremely risky.

Max jumped up at Sam’s leg, whining excessively. The pup knew what they were about to do; he had to. Sam’s lips formed a thin line, picking up the terrier and removing his collar, before placing him back down.

This was it. This was the moment that would decide _everything_.

Sam fell on one knee at the foot of the grave, lightly pressing his fingers to the earth. He took the collar in both hands and held it like a rosary, closing his eyes in prayer.

_He uncapped the tube._

A golden sphere floated into Sam’s vision, hovering there for a few moments, then fell like a feather into the ground.

Sam waited. And, waited. And, waited some more.

15 minutes passed with no change, with Dean and Cas becoming restless. Sam, however, just stayed where he was, on one knee before their last hope.

“Sam?” Dean asked, gently. “Sam, you okay man?”

“I promised.” Sam said meekly, not looking back at the two men behind him.

“What?”

“I PROMISED!” Sam slammed his fists into the mud; a resonating crack filled the still air. “I _promised_ him that I would bring him back. Now look!” He gestured wildly to the unbroken ground. “I failed him.”

_‘You never failed anyone, Kiddo.’_

Sam looked up suddenly, staring in all directions. “Did you hear that?”

Castiel tilted his head, “hear what?”

Sam heard a loud rumble, and he looked up. The heavens opened, rain pouring, drenching him to the core; still he stayed put.

A mass of golden light burst from the ground. Sam fell onto his back, wide eyed, unable to comprehend just _what_ was happening.

The earth opened up into a deep pit, the light becoming brighter and brighter the deeper it got.

The light was full of warmth and companionship, comforting Sam to the core.

All too soon, the light began to dissipate; the clouds clearing. Sam had to squint to become accustomed to the sudden change. But, what he saw when he did, was enough to make his heart skip a few important beats.

There, in front of the giant pit, was a figure on it’s knees.

The figure was clad in a red plaid shirt, a green army style jacket and dark blue jeans. Their head was lowered, sandy blonde bangs covering his eyes. Sam could just make out the beginnings of a smirk tugging at their lips.  

They looked up, and grinned, catching Sam’s eye. “Hey there, Kiddo. Long time no see.”

Sam stared blankly at the golden eyed archangel, then, without restriction, he charged forward, wrapping Gabriel up in his arms and burying his face in his soft mop of hair, breathing in deeply. “I was worried that It wouldn’t work. I thought I’d fucked up.”

“Hey, i’m not going anywhere - not for a long time.” Gabriel smiled into Sam’s chest, never wanting to leave that spot, but was forced by the addition of a low, gravelly voice.

“Welcome back, brother.”

Gabriel let go of Sam, turning to face Castiel. “Hey baby-bro. How’s it hanging?”

Cas shrugged, “Oh you know, just the apocalypse looming over our heads. Nothing major.”

Gabe blinked slowly, then bust out laughing, pointing at Dean.  
“Dean-o, you’re a good influence on him. Keep up the good work.” After he had calmed down, he turned back to the younger Winchester, smiling wildly when he saw the dog at his feet.   
“MAX!” He fell to his knees and brought the dog to his chest. “I missed you so much, you little rascal.” Poking Max’s stomach, Gabriel frowned. “Hey, you lost weight.”

Sam started laughing at that, the whole scenario still so surreal.

Gabriel stood, carrying Max close with one arm, offering his free hand to Sam.  
“I don’t know about you, but i’m starving.” He closed his eyes, grinning. “I say we grab a bite and then piss in Satan’s cereal. What d’ya think?”

Taking Gabriel’s hand in his own, Sam’s face relaxed into a soft smile. “Yeah,” his heart was bursting with affection, his head light and eyes shining, “Let’s do this.”

Gabe smirked and griped Sam’s hand tight, watching as the sun began to break through in the early hours of dawn.

One thing was certain.

With an archangel on their side,

Things were about to get interesting.


End file.
